


Jit

by DaintilyMoreoverWhims



Category: Original Work
Genre: School, Sign Language, shinto shrine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaintilyMoreoverWhims/pseuds/DaintilyMoreoverWhims
Summary: First thing I've written that needs two chapters. Go on, you know you want to.





	Jit

I'm in History right now. Mostly. I drifted off about a minute ago when she started up her Weimar Republic spiel, and I'm damn glad I did. I've caught a good one this time, a real corker. That's how I've always thought about it; daydreams are asynchronous, you just catch them as they stay static like the road under a car. If rolling around in a field of grass under a purple sky was sitting at 5 PM, then if you nodded off at, say, 4:59, that'd be what you got no matter your mental state beforehand. I don't know. It doesn't really make sense.

It's been 15 minutes since my eyes shut, and I'm seeing as clearly as ever. It's some kind of shrine, like a Shinto one, but just the building from the middle of it, not the gate or anything. Blue flames are playing over the edges of the place, blown horizontal by the fiercest wind I've ever felt. No, actually, I think it's the shrine that's moving. There's nothing out there I can see for reference, just a sort of marbled electric blue void, but I get the feeling that's the case. I'm walking around the building, looking out into the empty space. Halfway around now, and I think I can see something far away. We're going towards it.

There's someone here with me. A woman. A foot taller than me at least, bright orange hair, some sort of head-dress with all dangly bead things. She smiles, and turns back to the abyss. I ask her name. She's saying something, but instead of words the wind is getting stronger. I wonder how her hat is still on.

Yeah, thought so. We're coming right up on whatever that thing in the distance was, and we're not slowing down. I've had loads before that end in similar ways, like a car crash or a building falling on me. I think they mean something. Like, not just about my unconscious or whatever. Something about the world. So far I can't say I've gotten any proof.

The woman's facing to me again, and lifting her hands to her face. Now she's making these little shapes with her fingers and moving her eyes all over the place. I'm doing it too, and I can hear what she's saying this time.

"Hello. I call myself Jit. Who are you?"  
"Hi there. I'm Fern. Is this your shrine?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Uh, I mean, do you own this place? What's it for?"  
"I do not. This entity cannot be owned, it is not allowed. It is called the Agemni Extension, and it has no set purpose but propagation through attributed correlation."  
"Right. I don't get it, but cool anyway. So, who are you?"  
"I call myself J-"  
"Yeah, I know, but why are you here? What are you doing?"  
"I am the attributed correlation."  
"Okay, never mind. Where are we going?"  
"We are heading towards the building in the distance. I do not know more information."  
"Well, thanks anyway."

She's staring into the nothingness again. Not even at the building. I didn't notice before, but her dress has some of the same shapes she was making on it. I can't tell what they mean now. Maybe nothing. Maybe they only mean something while they're being made. Anyway, I'm guessing based on my shoddy attempt to gauge the distance, that we'll hit in about 30 seconds. I still can't tell what it actually is. There's this effect like a lighting glitch over the whole structure, so there's no point keeping on squinting. Besides, there's a side left on this place I haven't seen yet.

Exactly the same as the other three sides. The building is taking up a good portion of the view out the back now. Five seconds, maybe. Four now. I'm sure you can count without my help. I'll use seconds three through nought for some industrial strength bracing. I can't get hurt, obviously, but if I don't prep myself I'll knee the desk when I come back up. Done that before, if you couldn't tell. Not only do desks do a real number on knees, but everyone stares at you while you're there trying not to make pain noises.

Kablam. Whack, perhaps. Thonk? No idea, I didn't actually hear it. The moment the shrine touched the building, I was out. I've still got my eyes shut, but I know I can't go back in now. Asynchronous, and all that. That dream's behind me, and getting further away by the second. Eyes open, then. I'll have to do it eventually. She's still at it, though she's moved on to some Cold War shtick.

I know I said these dreams mean something about the world, but I think I'm giving up on that. I've never been to Japan, and I can't think of anyone I know who's even a bit like this Jit charac-

No, actually, she looks a lot like Miss Alder. If you changed her hair to black and swapped out her clothes for an anally retentive school-teacher getup. I should've seen that when I was on the shrine, but I guess the flames, the wind, and the impending crash had all my attention. Shame I can't go back, those flames were stunning.

"...Khrensov's analysis of the situation brought to light several problems other historians had failed to consider. Namely, the attributed correlation between..."

Wait, what did she just say? Maybe I'm not properly awake yet. Jordan in the row behind has just stuck his hand up. He's asking a question about Khrensov's interpretation of some economic situation or another.

"Well, Jordan, like I said, his analysis attributed correlation between the effect of..."

Freaky. Coincidence, but freaky. Hopefully she'll burst into blue flames and we'll get the week off. Oh, she's just dropped her pen. She hasn't noticed, and she's still going on Jordan's question. Now the hand that had the pen is twitching. Maybe she's got Parkinson's. No, more than twitching, her fingers are touching eachother to a beat, tips tapping knuckles, forming loops and crosses and weaves. Jit's finger language again, definitely. It's so fast. Am I the only one seeing this?

"Hello Fern. Thank you."

I've got to respond, I have to. I'm trying my best to do it without letting the people next to me see. I can't remember any of the shapes, but I'm thinking about what I want to say and it's just happening. I may genuinely be going insane.

"Jit?"  
"Yes."  
"Why are you here?"  
"You have attributed correlation between my Agemni instance and a member of your own space. I am here because I have no other choice. I wish to thank you and to prepare you."  
"Prepare me? I still don't understand how you can be here, you're not real."  
"My state of reality is not a binary, though from your perspective, I am real. You do not need to be active in the preparation. I am changing you through this communication. I simply require that we continue to converse."  
"What are you doing to me? What's going to happen?"  
"I am reading your construction into my own local space, converting it to a discrete safely transferable format, and writing it back. Without this conversion, you will not survive. You should not notice any differences in yourself. I cannot adequately describe what is to happen next, as I have never experienced such an event."  
"Uh, thanks, I guess."  
"I require no gratitude. Please, continue communicating."  
"Right. So... What were you doing in that shrine place before I was there?"  
"I was observing the space beyond."  
"The blue stuff?"  
"Yes."  
"That's all you were doing? How long were you there?"  
"Six-hundred and twelve years, nine days, five hours, fourty-three minutes, and thirteen seconds."  
"Woah. You were alone the whole time?"  
"No. On average I received one visit every eighty-six point two years."  
"Christ. How'd you not go insane?"  
"My construction is very different from yours. I do not require interaction to sustain regular cognition, merely continued use of all major faculties. I achieved this through semi-randomised fictional universes within myself."  
"You- you were daydreaming? For six-hundred years, stuck on a shrine, just, imagining different lives you could have?"  
"That is a cogent comparison."  
"Christ, that's just, do you have any idea how sad that is?"  
"From the parts of your construction I have read, I can understand this reaction."  
"Dammit, I'm gonna cry. Literally I can feel it coming on. Aah, dammit. Why- why did you want to thank me earlier?"  
"For two reasons. Firstly, you have allowed me to exit the Agemni Extension, which I have never been able to do. Secondly, in responding to my initial communication through this medium, you have granted me access to your construction. I will be able to regain aspects of cognition I have lost."  
"Yeah, no- no problem."  
"The necessary conversion is complete. Communication is no longer required, though I understand you may wish to continue regardless."  
"Damn right I do. You've never experience what happens next, right, but is there anything you can guess? Are you going back, or staying as the left hand of my history teacher for the rest of your life?"  
"I will not be returning, and I am not the left hand of this person. I have copied myself into her construction, and have taken command of her major faculties. I regret to inform you there is little of Miss Alder remaining, though I have retained the in-local processes used most recently, so for a time she will continue as she was."  
"Wait, you possessed her? No, you killed her, and then possessed her? And- and you just think that's fine?"  
"As I said earlier, I have no other choice. Your attributed correlation between myself and her enables this and makes it necessary."

This is a hallucination. I'm actually flailing on the floor, or maybe I'm just slumped over my desk. I could be in hospital right now. Point is there's no way this is real. Lonely emotionless woman from a flying shrine kills and takes over the body of my history teacher. I think not. Fascinatingly vivid, though, and way more interesting than what'd usually be happening. So I'll stick with it, at least for a bit.

People are noticing what's happening now. It feels like minutes, but it's been about five seconds since my little talk with Jit started. Like I said, it's fast. Maybe we should all talk like this, get rid of small talk, and just info-blast eachother with these finger dances. I guess it wouldn't work for people with no hands.

The people who noticed first are starting to prod their neighbors. Miss Alder is still, well, Jit doing some kind of puppet job is still answering Jordan. Once you get past the murder and mental takeover, it's a little bit cool. Shunting your entire mind into someone else's and managing to keep everything running smoothly the whole time. What's left of Miss Alder, the in-local processes, Jit said, probably haven't the faintest what's going on. Little islands of Miss Alder, drifting loose near the meteorite that hit the mainland, sinking as they go. At least she didn't have kids, or a husband, or a dog or anything. Another way they're similar. Maybe Miss Alder spent her free time daydreaming.

We're still going, talking across the room. Nobody's noticed that I'm doing it back, they can just see her hand by her hip working its funky jig. Most people seem to think it's just a mannerism, like tapping your fingers or shaking your leg. Damn, someone just spotted me. They're looking from one dancing hand to the other, with this brilliant look of comprehensive confusion. If I could look away, I'd look right at their face, cement it so I can roll about laughing later when I'm out of this coma or whatever.

"People are noticing us, Jit."  
"Why should I care. They're all dumb anyway."  
"What?"  
"Texting all the time, read a damn book. Spend six-hundred years on a supersonic goddamn temple. Live a little."  
"Who- who are you?"  
"Jit, remember? Ginger shrine lady, cool dress. You know, I didn't realise how good that dress looked on me. Really, did this woman wear nothing but greyscale?"  
"No, no- you're not Jit, she's all, like, 'the necessary conversion is complete' and whatnot. What happened to her? Is this the next step she was talking about?"  
"I told you, didn't I, I'd regain aspects of cognition I lost? That's what this is. Turns out I'd lost a lot more than I thought, so I've had to patch up with stuff from you. I got some of old me back though, and let me tell you, I was one mean old hag. Give it a bit, I'm still sorting things out. Forecast: mood swings and nervous ticks, as high pressure winds sweep across the lower brain functions of your favorite historian."

Miss Alder's stopped talking, in both ways. I can't actually tell if she's even breathing. Now her eyes are facing opposite directions, Christ, and her right shoulder's jerking like it's about to fall off. Jit's gone overboard, I think this is a seizure. No, wait, she's stopped. People are properly freaking out now. She's turning toward me, lifting up both hands. We're talking again, and the eyes in the room are zipping back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I can hear some girl whispering, she thinks I'm casting a spell. Yeah, Stacy, that's right. And maybe I'll do you next.

"Oh, hell yes! There's so much room in this place now the junk's gone! Cold War, World War, Boer War, so much damn war. Major blockage in the old brain-pipes. Jit the plumber, works her magic again!"  
"You're insane."  
"Says the one fingering the air to a woman across a classroom. You know, I really think something should be happening by now. Part II or whatever. Good old Agemni Extension ought to be popping in for a visit, at any rate. I mean, I could just keep standing here, but I'd like to go and eat something! Oh, god yes! I haven't had food in so long! I don't even remember what salt tastes-"

She's stopped again.

"Jit?"

There are tears flowing down Miss Alder's face, a really incredible amount of tears. She's not making any expression. I think I've got about ten seconds before someone makes a move to one of us.

"Jit, what's happening?"  
"I can remember everything. The whole time. Every second. 'I do not require interaction'. Yeah, right. You just couldn't tell you did because you had nothing to compare it to. Oh, oh god damn. I remember my life before that place. They're gone, all of them. Didn't make it to the shrine with me. Erased. They're gone, and I could've done something."

I honestly don't know what I should do. I don't know anything about anything here.

"Uh, I'm not sure what you're talking about, but if whoever it is is dead like you say, then they haven't been alive for a really long time, right? I don't know-"  
"Exactly! You don't know! You have no idea! They aren't dead, Fern, they're _gone, erased._ Erased! And I can never go back!"

Miss Alder is, I mean, Jit is scrunching up her face like she's been shot in the leg.

"Jit, I-"

There's a whistling noise coming from outside. Faint, but getting louder. She's heard it too, from the way she turned a little towards it. There's something on the horizon, about the size of a coin at arm's length, and getting bigger. I know what it is. Oh, hell, there's no mistaking it. Blue flames, stunning architecture, ferocious speed. The girl next to me sees it too, and she's shouting, and now everyone else is looking. Everyone except us. Jit turns to me.

"Fern, don't stop looking at me. I screwed up my chance, but I can help you. I'm rewriting part of you again, a path you don't use, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Fern, but you're not going to remember anything when you get there. I can't leave you more than a single idea, so remember, like your life depends on it. Remember: _Attributed correlation._ "


End file.
